


Just Like Starting Over

by lennons_lemon_queen



Category: The Beatles
Genre: 1980's, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-28
Updated: 2018-05-15
Packaged: 2018-11-20 16:30:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11339169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lennons_lemon_queen/pseuds/lennons_lemon_queen
Summary: What do you do when you feel like your dreams aren't worth chasing anymore?Do you give up?Forget them?Or keep trying?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Older!Au (set approx. 1980ish) I've been developing the dynamics for a while and I really like it! I hope you guys do too.  
> Here's a more in-depth plot set-up:  
> John Lennon is the owner of an antique mall in downtown Olivedale, California. A quaint little city known for its well-paid occupants. He's never quite fit in there, but after his divorce he's learned to find a place for himself out of his own creation. Times are tough, and he's struggling, but happy.  
> Paul McCartney plays in a small local band aside from raising a child as a single parent. He never gave up his dream of being a musician. And one afternoon when he stumbles across the store and it's owner--his life would never be the same.

"That'll be $23.95."  
"Thank you so much."  
"Any time."  
John watched the customer walk out of the front of the store. It was another slow day and the heat was sweltering outside. He yawned and stretched his sore back before shutting the register drawer.  
John was the owner of a rather large antique shop in a downtown suburban neighborhood of Olivedale, California. He'd had it for five years and slept in the back on nights he had to stay and finish a late job. It wasn't a glamorous place but it was really rather charming.  
John sat back down on his stool and sipped a glass of iced tea, an upbeat fifties ballad played on the stereo system as he watched a small crowd of people walk by and glance inside from out on the sidewalk.  
He sighed. "'S gonna be a long day..."  
"I'll say."  
John looked up to see George standing, his narrow shoulders hunched over a display case barrier on John's left. He managed the back end of the store that specialized in mechanical repair and musical electronics like turntables and radios.  
"Any luck with the welding project you guys were doing?"  
George huffed. "Ringo burnt his damn fingers again."  
John snorted. "You guys better be more careful back there."  
"I know. But what else are we supposed to do, no one comes in here for bloody electrical repair anymore--they all want your knick-knacks and bobbles."  
"Hey, I'll have you know my bobbles are entirely my property."  
George snorted. "I thought they were that young lady's in the yellow dress that came in last Tuesday's..."  
John smacked George playfully.  
"What?! You guys had a thing! Rings and I both saw!"  
John rolled his eyes. "You guys know I'm not up for anything serious..." He lowered his tone as a young couple came walking through the aisle behind him. "...Cyn and I barely separated last December."  
George sighed understandingly. "But that was half a year ago, mate. You can't isolate yourself up in here forever."  
John rolled his eyes. "I don't plan on it being forever, Geo, but don't rush me! Why don't you go back there and help Ringo with his fingers?"  
George chuckled. "That probably would be a good idea."  
"He's gonna give you a right kick in the ass."  
George shrugged. "I'm used to it."  
John listened to his footsteps get farther and farther away on the paneled floor and resumed his daydreaming out the front door.  
He glanced over at the clock and noticed it was past noon and made a noise of recognition, leisurely walking through the narrow hallways that led to the back end of the store.  
He heard a cackle that definitely belonged to Ringo and saw the orange embers flying from behind George's work desk.  
"I'm heading out to get some lunch, you lot, I'll be back in a minute. Ringo can you watch the front for me?"  
Ringo peeked out from behind a corner, his light brown bob of hair swishing wildly around his boyish face.  
"Sure thing, boss!"  
He followed John back down to the front and sat at his usual register stool.  
John jokingly saluted to Ringo and stepped out the door with the metallic chime of the bells tied to the handle.

* * *

  
The heat was sticky and encasing, like it was pressing in around you and the distant laughter of children by the gazebo echoed down the street. A band was playing, three men. One acoustic guitarist, one bassist, and a drummer. John turned to observe them briefly and his eyes caught the figure of the tall man plucking the wide strings of the bass. A left-handed bass. His dark hair was nearly shoulder-length in the back and his shapely eyebrows were furrowed in concentration before giving away to a charming smile. John may have nearly tripped on the curb. But he would deny it to his grave.  
He shook his head and kept waking over to the little fifties themed diner next door to his shop. The tinkling of the bells as he walked in greeted him along with the melodic voices of the cooks in the back. A miniature juke box was playing Honeycomb on the counter.  
"'Lo!" One of the ladies cooking shouted. "Be with ya in a moment!"  
"No problem!" John shouted back. He sat down in one of the small side booths and admired the homely air of the place. He had always liked it. It was like eating inside someone's kitchen in their house. Very welcoming.  
"Okay, what can I get ya?" The lady from the back came to the counter.  
"I'll take an order of fries and a coke, please."  
"Sure thing, hon." She jotted it down before disappearing back into the kitchen.  
John looked down at the checked pattern on the tablecloth and his thoughts began to pour out. The nostalgia of being surrounded by the era of his adolescence was starting to get to him. It was like he was sixteen again--sneaking into bars and slipping cigs from his father's dress coats. He chuckled to himself and shook his head.  
"Your fries n' coke, sir?"  
"Thank you."  
"Of course."  
He took the little styrofoam container and the cup and headed back over to his shop. The upbeat rock music from the band in the gazebo was still going strong and he would be lying if he said he didn't look at the bassist for a moment longer than what would be considered a casual glance.  
"Johnny, a lady wants to know if we have any scones." Ringo said as he came back in.  
"Sconces." The older woman corrected, a slight smile on her lips. Her gray hair was tied back in a bun.  
John laughed. "We do, actually. Ringo, show her to the blue room down the hall, there are a few on the wall."  
"Yessir." Ringo nodded politely and led the woman over.  
John blew air from pursed lips and sat back down on his stool before opening the box of fries. Two young ladies walked in and smiled shyly.  
"Afternoon, come on in."  
"Thank you," One said politely.  
John popped a fry in his mouth and sipped his coke. A homely ballad crooned from the stereo and he sat back comfortably at his post.  
John might not have Cyn at his side anymore but he was comfortable at the moment. Though George would insist he was otherwise... John didn't think he needed the pressure of a serious relationship in his life anymore. Cynthia had showed him that. She was the light of his life. They had married really young, and tried to have children to find out she was barren. Pushing the difficult roadblock aside, John continued to shower her in love and affection. They had a house together not far from the shop he was in now. But when he got older and showed interest in becoming a traveling musician, Cynthia encouraged him to drop the dream and get a serious paying job instead. This was only the start of tensions between them. On the day of John's 39th birthday last year they decided to split. It was heartbreaking for John, but he tried not to dwell on it. George and Ringo had really helped him out of a deep depression and got him on his feet again when he bought the front half of the store. Now, John saw only opportunities ahead.  
The old lady came back around to the front with her sconces.  
"Alright, lemme get ya ringed up here."  
There was a crash and loud swearing from the rear end of the store and John tried not to laugh as he punched the numbers in the cash register.  
"$42, please."

* * *

  
Later that evening, John was getting ready to close up shop when he heard someone walk up to the side of the counter.  
"What is it, Geo?"  
George laughed good-heartedly. "You gonna hole yourself away up in here again tonight?"  
John smiled. "No, not tonight. I'm gonna stay with Mimi."  
George nodded. "Sounds a lot better than the store room."  
"It depends." John laughed.  
"Oh, come on! You and I both know it's better."  
John rolled his eyes. "I suppose." He locked the register and slung his bag over his shoulder, walking with George out the backside of the store.  
As he stepped out into the humid night air he saw his bike chained to the fence behind their building. It might not have been the best mode of transportation but hell, it beat walking.  
He rode through the little downtown stretch and out to the Main Street, picking up speed as he went downhill.  
Large expensive manners lined with thick trees and trimmed lawns gave way to middle class houses with picket fences, and those middle class houses gave way to small roadside shacks. John was used to the change in environment. He had lived in this area his entire childhood. Mimi's house was a small cream-colored building with a Spanish tile roof. It was small yet comforting. Much like his aunt Mimi, he often thought. She had moved here many moons ago from Liverpool to take care of him. Extended family overseas. She was a mother to him when his own had passed away. And he was forever grateful for her.  
John got off the bike and walked it around the backside of the house to lock it to a drainpipe when a sharp voice drifted down from the bathroom window.  
"Get out o' me backyard ye bleedin' rotten--"  
"--Mimi, it's me!" John held up his hands and waved them.  
Mimi's laughter floated melodically. "Oh, dear! Why didn't ye just say so?"  
John smiled and walked back around the front where Mimi was already waiting at the door, holding it open welcomingly. For an old woman, she sure did move fast.  
"Welcome home, boy."  
John grinned widely and pulled Mimi into a tight hug. "'M only here for the night, ma." He could still smell the spicy cologne she always splashed behind her ears in the morning.  
"However long, it's still nice to have ye."  
"It's nice to see you too."  
"Now, come inside. It's getting dark."  
"Yes ma."

* * *

  
Paul McCartney was, and always will be a charmer. A people-pleaser. And nothing gave him joy like wowing a crowd.  
But it wasn't always that way.  
He started off fresh from high school as a library page. Shelving books and learning the trade. It was repetitive after a while and when it ceased to bring him joy, he quit.  
...Okay. He got fired.  
...For playing a ukulele when he was supposed to be alphabetizing.  
But it happens to everyone, right?  
_Right._  
He had always dreamed of being a musician. Traveling the world and spreading joy to people through a universal language that couldn't be taught in a schoolbook. But the nagging pressure of getting a 'suitable career' and supporting himself always kept him at arms length from his desires.  
When he turned thirty, Paul met a lovely woman at an art party. They hit it off well, and grew quite close, but she, herself was a musician. And she was always in the middle of trying to get somewhere that she had nearly left him behind. Or she did. At least that's what he thought for three years.  
Linda had had a child. A child he wasn't aware of. Until he received a phone call the day after his thirty-fourth birthday. Linda couldn't take care of the child and pursue her dreams at the same time. She was a loving and endearing parent, but children were never a part of her plan. Even when she tried to raise the kid for three years, she realized it wasn't something she could handle. And so she had Paul take full custody of a little girl that she had named Mary after his own late mother.  
Mary had consumed his life after that. And Paul fell in love with the little blonde-haired, blue-eyed darling girl. Parenthood had fully taken its place over any 'foolish dream' he had ever had about traveling the world with his music.  
One night, before tucking Mary in, Paul played a little song on his guitar for her.  
"Daddy?"  
"Yes, dear?"  
"I wish you were this happy all the time."  
"...What do you mean, sweetie?"  
"You're always so happy when you play the guitar. I wish you could be like that all the time."  
"But I have to work also, so we can have a place to stay."  
Mary quieted a moment. "Why don't you work at playing the guitar?"  
Paul laughed, then contemplated seriously. He ran his hand over Mary's little head. "...Maybe. I'll think about it."  
Six months later, Paul got a group of his friends together and he started to play local areas on the weekends. And once they gained momentum, he even got some extra income from their gigs.  
Everything seemed like it was starting to go right again.

* * *

  
In the middle of a number on a hot summer evening, Paul was standing at the mic playing bass when he saw a man exit a shop a little ways down the sidewalk. His eyes unintentionally lingered as they made eye contact and he nearly messed up his chord transition. But he wouldn't admit that aloud.  
The man wasn't dressed as posh as some of the people did around here. He was elegant in build, and very homely in a foreign way Paul had never quite experienced. His hair was a little past the nape of his neck and he had a stubby ponytail that brushed the collar of his blue jean shirt. Stubble lined his jaw and a pair of gold framed glasses rested on his straight nose.  
Paul tried not to gasp as he saw the man's shoe catch an uneven piece of pavement and he stumbled forward a bit, catching himself. He kept playing, relief washing over him as he moved on to the next song. He wasn't sure, but he thought he could see a blush painting the man's cheeks.  
Paul bit back a smile.  
"Hey!" His guitarist, Colin elbowed him. "Who's that?"  
"Who's who?"  
"The guy you were gawking at, who was it?"  
"I have no idea what you're talking about."  
"Look, there he is!" Colin pointed in the distance.  
Paul looked.  
"Ha! Gotcha!" Colin snorted.  
Paul scowled. "You dick."  
"Paulie's got a boyfriend."  
Paul kicked Colin's shin. _How long was this set transition going to be?! Surely he had to shut up sometime._  
"Daddy!" Mary's voice called from the bottom of the gazebo.  
Paul looked down. "Yes, hon?"  
"Can we go in the candy store when you're done?"  
"Sure. Just stay with the nanny for right now okay?"  
The woman in charge of watching Mary smiled warmly and held her hand.  
"Okay!" Mary giggled excitedly.  
Paul continued on with his performance, but he couldn't keep his mind off of a particular stranger who tripped down the sidewalk.  
_Oh boy._ He thought. _Here it comes..._

* * *

  
"Why do you work yourself so hard, in that little shop, Johnny?"  
John shook his head and chewed a mouthful of chicken casserole. "I do not. I work as much as I feel comfortable with."  
"Ye feel comfortable with sleeping in closets, do ya?"  
John frowned mid bite. He set his fork down. "Mimi, I told ya. I'm fine."  
"You're skin n' bones, Johnny! What do ye eat when yer up there in Rich Town USA? Peanuts?"  
John pushed the image of empty peanut packages piled on the work table in the back out of his mind. _They did make quick, easy meal substitutes in between work..._  
"No."  
"You lie like a guilty whore in a church hall."  
John snorted. He missed Mimi. "Okay! So I'll eat more!"  
Mimi smiled sweetly. "Good lad."

* * *

  
"Hi, I'm Paul from the group." He paced barefoot in his living room, leaving pressure footprints in the squishy carpeting. "Yes. I was wondering when, or if, you might want us to come back to play again."  
Why am I doing this?  
"Really? Okay. That'll work just fine."  
"Daddy?" Mary tugged at Paul's pant leg.  
Paul covered the receiver with his right hand. "Hold on, sweetie."  
"Okay. Sounds wonderful. We'll be there Thursday. Thank you, sir. Goodbye."  
Paul hung up the phone and kneeled down next to Mary. "What is it, dear?"  
"I just wanted to say hi."  
"Well then," Paul smiled and picked her up suddenly, swinging her around in a circle. She giggled hysterically.  
When he set her down on the couch, Mary rested her head on his knee.  
"Why are you so happy all of a sudden?"  
Paul couldn't help but smile. "You know, I don't know."  
Mary giggled. "How can you not know?"  
"Because I don't." Paul looked ahead of him at the tv, some mindless news program running. "... _but I have a feeling_."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've ventured back into the world of my fics and decided to update a personal favorite of mine. Hope you all enjoy!

A white ceiling fan spun lazily in the front of the antique store. It was 95 degrees outside. Even the wind while in the shade was too warm. 

"Yes, Ma. I gained three whole pounds. I'm not making it up!" John wiped off the glass counter with Windex as he balanced the phone's receiver against the side of his face. " _Your_ scale!"  

"Hey, Boss?" Ringo asked, his blistered hands folded politely in front of him.

"I've got to go, Mimi. Bye." John looked up at Ringo. "Yes?"

"Three whole pounds? Wow. You might want to slow down there, mate." Ringo teased.

John threw the dirty rag at Ringo. "Shove off. Now, what do you want?" 

"I was just letting you know George and I are going on break." 

"Okay. Have fun. And don't let the door hit you on the way out."

John set the phone down on the counter and sat on his stool. He could hear the faint echoing of drums over the CD he had playing. At first, he thought nothing of it. But then he remembered last week. And it all came back to him. 

The music.

The smile.

The ~~not~~ tripping.

John felt so overcome with emotion he almost fell off the stool. 

What the hell was going on with him these days? Being reduced to a puddle by some random bloke in the parking lot! Ridiculous! John has seen attractive men before, but has never crossed the public line of decency. This, in his mind, would be going far too beyond the societal norm. He viewed men on a _'you can look, but you can't touch'_ basis. But then again, after Cyn, everyone has been on that list.  

John took a deep breath. He was a man. He can handle this. After all, he had more counters to wipe. And more er, antiques to be antiquing. Right. 

He walked over to a different display case near the door and began to clean it with the Windex, when suddenly, his mind conjured the unwelcome vision of the bass player. With his flirtatious smile and hair flip. John banged his fist down on the counter loudly. 

"Damn it! This can't happen to me! _Not_ now!"

"Um, sir?"

John turned around to see a woman standing at the register holding a small porcelain statue. 

"Can I pay for this?"

John laughed nervously. "Well, if you didn't, that would be stealing." He stood when he realized that the woman didn't think the joke was funny and walked over to the register, bathed in self-embarrassment.  "That'll be twelve dollars."

* * *

 

"Daddy, what's gotten you so happy all of a sudden?" Mary asked Paul.

Paul buckled Mary into her car seat. "I'm just excited to get to play today, that's all." He kissed the top of her red head.

Mary giggled. "Me too!"

Paul slid the door of the van closed and got in the driver's seat, adjusting the rear view mirror. 

Today was going to be special. He could tell. But why was he so damn nervous?

The sooner he got to the venue and warmed up with the band, the better. 

***

When Paul got to the gazebo, his mates were waiting for him. He hoisted Mary up on his hip and handed her to his nanny, Macy who was standing by the stage. 

"We're only doing two sets this afternoon. So go ahead and look around. If she sees any place she wants to go in, let her. But leave the knick-knack buying to me, okay? You shouldn't have to be spending anything out of pocket." Paul explained.

Macy smiled. "It really isn't a problem, Paul."

"You know how I feel, Miss Macy." 

Macy rolled her eyes playfully before walking off with Mary, and Paul grabbed his bass from the back of the car. He looked out at the parking lot. There were a few people spotted around, though none of them were the man he saw last week.

_Maybe he would show up later..._

 

* * *

 

 

Even though the mirror in the bathroom had been cleaned ten times. It just didn't feel like enough. John nearly had his nose pressed against it, scrubbing with an intensity that nearly knocked it off the wall.

There was a knock at the door.

"John you've been in there a half hour and I need to take a piss, get out." 

It was George.

John sprang open the door and hustled out. "Sorry, George."

"Yeah, whatever, man." 

The steady drum beat continued on outside. Like a constant, pulsing reminder. 

_He's out there._

John rolled his eyes and sighed. This felt like it was going to be the death of him. 

The bells of the front door jingled and a young lady walked in holding the hand of a red-headed child. 

"Welcome," John said automatically, a warm smile on his face. 

"Thank you." The woman said. 

The little child was tugging on her sleeve, leading her over towards a case with a Raggedy Ann doll in it. 

"Look! Macy! A dollie with my hair!" 

John felt an unexpected pang in his chest. But also a bit of confusion.  _Macy?_ It's quite unusual for a child to be calling their parent by their first name... But then again he did that with Mimi his whole life. Though her being the Auntie made a slight exception. 

"Excuse me, sir? How much is that doll?"

John started and looked over at them again. 

Originally, that doll would cost $25, but because he felt that was far too much, and felt compassion for the little girl, he decided to lower it. 

"Fifteen."

Macy nodded and smiled before guiding the little one out the door. She put up a fiesty protest.

"But Macy!"

"Mary, your father said he would get you whatever you wanted. But you have to wait, okay?" 

Mary slumped. "Okay."

"Good." Macy lifted Mary up and carried her out.

John looked at the door a while after they walked out in thought. He had always thought about having a family. And how nice it could be.

But he didn't have much to offer right now, that's for sure. 

You have to have a house to have a kid.

* * *

 

Paul's spirit sank as they struck the final chord of their second set. 

 _He didn't come back._ Was all he could think.  

"Daddy!" Mary was bouncing as she headed towards the steps to the stage. 

Macy smiled and watched as Paul put his guitar away and followed behind Mary. "She saw a doll she liked in one of the shops over there."

Paul smiled excitedly at Mary. "Really?"

"Yeah!" 

"Okay, just give Daddy a minute, okay?" 

Mary nodded. 

"Paul?" Macy called.

"Yeah?" 

"I'm going to head out. Aaron made tonight date night so..."

Paul smiled. "Yeah, of course. You have fun."

"Thanks." She said. 

Before she left, Macy walked up to Mary and gave her a hug. "Goodbye Sweetie." 

"Goodbye Miss Macy."

Paul loaded his guitar in the back of the van and waved goodbye to his band mates.

"See you next time." 

Though he wasn't sure when next time would be. This place was the only gig Paul's been able to snag in weeks. He couldn't keep taking off time from his regular job to do this, that's for sure. Hopefully Mary wouldn't be too upset if he didn't play the guitar anymore. 

"So, show me the doll, honey." Paul grabbed Mary's hand and she led him up to the antique shop.

* * *

 

"Almost there..." Ringo was perspiring.

"Don't knock it over, you klutz." George whispered.

"Hold on to your ass, I've got it." Ringo delicately set the last card in the deck on top of the tower and breathed a sigh of relief. "Finally."

John had his feet up on the glass counter by the register as he read a copy of Rolling Stone. "You guys amaze me every day."

"In a good way?" Ringo asked.

John looked up from his magazine, hesitantly, his eyes unreadable under his sunglasses and green beret, but it relayed all of the necessary emotion he needed to express. 

Two customers pushed open the door. 

The gust of wind that came through as they entered was enough to demolish George and Ringo's card tower. 

"Shit on a stick." Ringo whispered. 

John looked up at the commotion, but what he saw made him drop his magazine. 

It was him. 

And he was just how he remembered him. Although this time he had company.

The little red-headed girl from earlier was pulling at his wrist over by the same display case from earlier. 

The air got sucked from his lungs. 

 _Oh._ She was their kid. 

* * *

 

Paul was looking intently in at the glass and when he turned around to find the cashier his eyes bulged a bit too much for subtlety. He cleared his throat. 

"I was wondering, can you unlock this case for us?" He struggled to keep his voice even.

_What was **he** doing here?! **He** worked here?! _

Paul watched as John took out a ring of keys from his pocket and walked over to the case. 

It wasn't until he noticed the clean smell of aftershave that he realized he was holding his breath before. 

"Thank you."

John smiled. "No problem. Let me know if you guys need any more help."

* * *

 

_Man, this guy sure is confident on stage... But now? He looks completely out of sorts._

John went back to his stool and pondered over the frames of his sunglasses. 

 _A Leo, maybe? Or Cancer?_   _Cancer would definitely explain the eyes. Damn. The eyes._

George walked up behind John and pinched his butt. 

John almost fell off of his stool for the second time today. "What gives!?" He whispered angrily. 

"Is this why you were 'scrubbing the bathroom mirror'?" George whispered back.

John rolled up his magazine and smacked him with it. "I _told_ you! It was _dirty_!"

"Dirty, all right..." George snickered before running off to the back. 

The man rang the bell up at the front and John straightened himself up. 

"Okay. One doll..." He punched a few buttons on the cash register. "That'll be fifteen dollars." 

The man reached for his wallet but he stopped himself. "Fifteen dollars?"

"Indeed." John smiled.

The man squinted skeptically at John and leaned on the glass counter. "But this doll is brand new. I see what they're going for in the stores and it isn't fifteen dollars." 

John smiled, mirroring his customer's actions, and removed his sunglasses. "In my store it is." 

* * *

 

Paul cleared his throat nervously and pulled fifteen dollars out of his wallet. "You're right. Your store. Your rules." 

John took the cash. "Thank you kindly. And, do come back." 

Paul looked back at the man at the register, trying to take everything that just happened in. "I will." He said before he could stop himself.

* * *

 

As soon as the pair were out of sight, John slumped back onto his stool and he just sat there for a while, staring at the door. 

 _Wow._  

John counted the money in the drawer and wrote it down for the night. 

_Was he flirting back at me?_

* * *

 

Paul gripped the steering wheel of his van with an alarming strength, as he noticed his knuckles were turning white he stopped. 

He took a deep breath. 

_Was he flirting with me?_

 

 

 


End file.
